Love Pentagon
by Spoon Shinobi
Summary: Cliff, despite his run-ins with betrayal, takes a leap and becomes Jack's friend...but when he finds that the woman he loves is in love with Jack, things get complicated. Especially when Jack also has to fight for the affection of the woman HE loves.
1. Chapter 1

His vision was blurred. Deformed and disjointed; all the objects around him were blended into colors, creating a meld of vomit contour that aggravated his throat and unsettled his stomach. Was he drunk? It was always a possibility. He was known to indulge every so often when an appropriate occasion arose. It was in his blood, after all. He came from a long line of ignorant, pathetic, drunken bastards who didn't give a shit about anyone when they were drinking, which was always, so he was always ignored as a child. But why was he remembering this now? And where was he? His thoughts were fluid enough...which was different from his usual hangovers. But then he heard a voice.  
  
"Hey...are you ok?"  
  
At this point, if he were drunk, he would think it was God calling him. But he didn't think it was God, just an unrecognizable voice, inviting him to conversation for no particular reason. Am I ok? Do I look ok? Then again, he didn't know what he looked like at that moment. For all he knew, he could have an enormous smile plastered on his face. Though that would be slightly eerie considering the circumstances. He blinked. Once. Twice. Trying feebly to rid himself of the blurriness, though to no avail. Blurriness remained, and the burning question in his mind, "What the hell is going on?" Grew greater and greater with each second passing.  
  
"Blink if you can hear me."  
  
Convulsively, he blinked.  
  
"Ok, you can understand me."  
  
Hardly, he thought. The words were coherent and yet he was hardly processing him. There was a need for something; his body was pestering him for something. What was it now? Sleep? Oxygen? What a demanding life he led. But this time it was something queer; something he didn't feel the need for very often. And apparently the need was so great at that particular moment that he felt the need to vocalize his longings.  
  
"...H...hungry..."  
  
"Hungry? You're hungry?" The voice inquired. "Stay with me, I'll see if I have some food."  
  
There were sounds of rummaging; metal clinking against metal, wood grating against wood, cloth rubbing against cloth. He could see the outline of a vibrant orange object that stung his eyes and two peach-colored lines scouring within it. The sounds persisted for an immeasurable amount of time, until finally the voice spoke up once more, one of the peach blurs extending a mass of violet in his direction.  
  
"It's a berry," The voice explained. "It should help."  
  
He hesitated. How did he know that was a berry? It could be colorful rat poison and he wouldn't be the wiser. Giving no response to it was the best course of action.  
  
"Please, eat some," The voice pleaded. "It's completely fine, look," It was like a father coaxing his 8 month year old son to eat his baby food. The owner of the voice tore a chunk from the fruit, causing liquid to spew out of it in purple dots and lines. However, the piece that was removed elevated to what appeared to be a mouth. It entered and chewing followed not long after. He knew it was chewing because of the noise; the visual was hardly complimentary.  
  
Convinced, he submissively took a meager bite out of the berry. Immediately, a rush of delicious liquid flowed onto his tongue, encompassing it in a warm blanket of flavor. Before he knew it, he was ripping the berry out of the voice's hands and devouring it like a ravenous dog.  
  
After the fruit had been eaten, he clenched his eyes. And when he opened them, he could see his feet. Not blurred or contorted, just feet. Blinking his cerulean orbs slowly, he looked past his disheveled brunette bangs and up into compassionate hazel eyes belonging to the peach figure he'd seen before. The man was a farmer. He could tell because of the accustomed garb; overalls with a white shirt and a complimenting red handkerchief hanging limply off his slightly lanky body...though said farmer had a defining backwards cap with gravity-defying chestnut hair that stood out from the age-old attire. A rucksack lay at the farmer's feet; the orange...thing...that the reviving berry had emerged from.  
  
"You feel ok?" The farmer inquired.  
  
"I feel...fine..." He answered, slightly dazed.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"My name? Cliff..."  
  
"Nice to meet you, Cliff."  
  
The farmer didn't offer his name, apparently because Cliff hadn't asked for it, which was completely fine with the vagabond at that moment.  
  
"How'd I get here?" Cliff inquired.  
  
"I was hoping you could tell me."  
  
"I don't remember anything...what is this place?"  
  
"Rosebud Village."  
  
Cliff clenched his eyes closed as recollections came in a flurry of images and sounds through his subconscious. "That's right...I came here on a boat from Moondrop Village..."  
  
The farmer stood and offered his hand, which Cliff accepted to stand as well.  
  
"Whereabouts...am I...in Rosebud Village?" Cliff asked.  
  
"You're at my farm; Okera. I found you passed out this morning in my front lawn."  
  
Suddenly, Cliff's face of confusion snapped into one of panic. "Cain? Cain, where's Cain?"  
  
"Cain?" The farmer inquired.  
  
"Cain! My--my bird, Cain, where is he?"  
  
"He's right here," The farmer indicated.  
  
Cliff found himself leaning up against a dog house, his hawk companion perched on the arch of the roof. The refined bird was ruffling his darkened feathers, the sun glinting off of his shining beak. There was a spark in his eye that signified he'd been fed recently.  
  
"Did you...give Cain food too?"  
  
"I had an extra fish from the other night...If I'd seen you before him, you would've had it, but your...Cain lucked out." The farmer grinned.  
  
"...Thank you for your kindness..." Cliff murmured. "I should probably get out of your hair."  
  
"You're no trouble." The farmer assured.  
  
"No, I should really get going..."  
  
"Well, if you're sure. Just know that you're welcome here if you ever need some more food."  
  
Cliff paused, intrigued. "What's your name?" He inquired.  
  
"Jack."  
  
"Jack?" He paused. "It's...nice to meet you, Jack."  
  
And with that he exited the farm. 


	2. Chapter 2

Jack spent the remainder of the day working to clear out his farm. The field was riddled with stumps, rocks and weeds, and his first duty as farmer was to rid himself of them to provide adequate planting space. Furiously driving his hammer into an adjacent rock, Jack recollected to the man who had become incapacitated in his front lawn that morning. The farmer was curious about him...who he was, why he was here, and why he seemed so eager to depart after being awakened.  
  
Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow, Jack peered into the sun which was now elevated at high noon. He contemplated taking a break, but decided against it eventually as taking breaks was the equivalent of giving up in his mind. You had to work until you were too sore to move, and then collapse into bed to do it all again the next day.  
  
At 6:00, when the shipper arrived at his farm and had departed not long after, disappointed that he didn't have anything to sell, Jack's stomach began grumbling vehemently and his arms felt as if they were about to snap off, he'd worked them so hard. The field hadn't even been sufficiently cleaned either. Sighing, the farmer tipped back his hat and scratched the chestnut hair protruding from it. It was getting late and no matter how hard he tried, his limbs wouldn't allow him to strike that hammer again. And yet he felt no urge to go to sleep.  
  
The bar was open, he mused. And he'd never been there before. Perhaps now was the time to visit. Securing his cap and replacing the tool within his rucksack, Jack slithered through the labyrinth of weeds and stumps, granting his canine companion a swift pet on the head before exiting the farm.  
  
Rosebud Village was renowned for its atmosphere; and presently Jack was indulging in every piece of it. A faint scent of moondrop blossomed and floated delicately on the gentle night air, spiraling about him in a whirl of serenity as fireflies darted haphazardly from shop to shop, favoring the seed repository for the numerous flowers planted in the front yard. It was a quaint town...homey and favorable, and Jack was enjoying his stay here thus far, though his farm upkeep hadn't progressed much and he knew next to no one.  
  
He'd always been a solitary boy. Recollecting to his previous visits in the town when his grandfather had still been alive, he couldn't decipher any moments in which he'd romped around with other children, played games...he spent most of the time on the farm, and any instances in which he wasn't under his grandfather's watchful eye, he was meandering about in the mountains or in the shop vicinity of Rosebud; not speaking to anyone, just walking...watching...  
  
Jack had never been allowed in the tavern as a child, so it was natural to have an interest in it as it was his only uncharted part of the village. As he opened the door to the building, he was met with a flurry of curious eyes of differing colors. Hazel, green, brown...and the piercing blue he immediately recognized as Cliff. Stepping timidly within the company of the bar, Jack proceeded instantly to the counter, evading the stares of the inhabitants. Their interest in his presence was eerie and unwanted, and he instinctively felt small under their gazes.  
  
The bartender, a man that appeared to be in his late 50s, with prominently slicked back gray hair and a prudently pressed purple vest greeted him with a small smirk, placing a recently cleaned mug in front of him.  
  
"You're the new kid here, eh? Jack, was it? Yeah, I remember him talking about you. So what'll it be, Jacky?"  
  
"A water...please..." Jack replied apprehensively.  
  
"Water? That's all you want?"  
  
The farmer nodded. The bartender appeared disappointed with his choice in drink, but filled up the glass anyway, shifting his attention to a mug to the right of him that was smudged with fingerprints. Jack picked up the water and began to move toward a vacated table, when a busty brunette with blond highlights intervened in his route, causing him to almost spill the entire glass over her bosoms.  
  
"Hey, watch where you're going, asshole!" She snapped, throwing her hands up in the air, her face contorted in a ghastly scowl.  
  
Jack would've felt the need to apologize had she not been such a horrible bitch about it, so he instead swept past her to enjoy his drink...though apparently she wasn't finished.  
  
"I was talking to you, jerk. You better apologize, you almost soaked my t-shirt!"  
  
"And you almost made me spill my drink. So we're even."  
  
"The hell we are!"  
  
"Karen." Duke called.  
  
The fiery female let out a frustrated sigh and stalked away, swinging her rear end slightly in her leave, looking over her shoulder once to glare at Jack from afar. She leaned seductively against the counter, a pout marred into her features. Jack simply rolled his eyes and sipped his water as everyone in the tavern looked at him out of the corner of their eyes. Including Cliff. He sighed; stood, setting his drink down unfinished, and exited the bar.  
  
"Humph. Serves him right." Karen muttered as he took his leave.  
  
Outside, Jack took in a deep breath and looked up at the stars. He wasn't one for confrontations or dealing with people looking at him blankly...maybe going to the bar wasn't such a good idea. Sticking his hands in his pockets, the farmer contemplated how hard it would be to win over the townspeople.  
  
The fireflies buzzed about him lazily, and he continued to look up when he felt someone standing hesitantly behind him. Curious, Jack arched his head back and saw Cliff in the doorway of the bar.  
  
"Hey..." He muttered.  
  
"Evening." Jack responded.  
  
"I...have to apologize for Karen. She's been like that for a long time."  
  
"...You know that girl?" Jack inquired.  
  
"She's my cousin." Cliff responded lightly, walking up and standing beside Jack.  
  
"Your cousin, huh?"  
  
"Yeah..." Cliff murmured. He looked down at the ground then up at the sky. "Karen's really not that bad a girl once you get to know her...she's just not favorable to people she doesn't know. She gets it from my uncle."  
  
Jack nodded and looked down at his feet. "Well I...knew I wasn't going to be able to handle everyone staring at me so I just decided to step outside."  
  
They were silent.  
  
Cliff shifted his position. "I wanted to thank you again, also, for...helping me this morning. If I'd been in that position in some of the other villages I've lived in, well..." He paused. "Well they wouldn't have been as kind. So...thank you."  
  
"It wasn't any trouble." Jack was quiet for a moment. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but...if they're your family, why don't you live here with them? Why were you in Moondrop?"  
  
Cliff was silent for a while, as if contemplating whether or not he should answer the question. At length, he began, "The only one of my relatives I can stand is Karen. Probably because we're about the same age..." He trailed off for a moment. "She...knows me more than my other family members, which is hardly saying much, but..." Cliff shrugged slightly. "I travel. It's what I do. This is the first time I've been here in God knows how long...I don't remember anyone, and they don't remember me. The only people I know are my uncle, aunt, and Karen. And none of them have taken much of a liking to me except Karen, so..."  
  
"You don't remember when you were here last?"  
  
He shook his head. "I was a kid. An ignorant, naïve kid last I was in Rosebud." Cliff smirked. "I kept in touch with Karen through letters...got one from her every year or so. Just recently she invited me back here and since I wasn't really...attached to Moondrop, so I decided to take her offer."  
  
"You're staying with her?"  
  
"Well...no..." Cliff murmured, looking away in slight embarrassment.  
  
"You're...not...?" Jack inquired, confused.  
  
Cliff took in a deep breath. "The fact of the matter is my uncle despises me. They have tons of extra rooms up at the vineyard but he wouldn't lend one to me if my life depended on it. Karen's been trying to negotiate me someplace to sleep...but he won't even let me crash in the goddamn wine cellar." He kicked at the dirt slightly.  
  
"Where are you going to live, then?" Jack questioned, concern evident in his voice which caught Cliff slightly off guard.  
  
The vagabond paused, realizing he'd just confided a whole lot of nothing in a strange farmer he'd met that morning. But he'd dug himself into a hole. He'd try to write it off.  
  
"Don't worry about it, it's nothing."  
  
"No, Cliff, where are you going to live?"  
  
He was sure persistent...timidly, Cliff murmured, "I'll probably sleep in the mountains."  
  
"In the mountains? No, no you're not."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You can stay at my farm."  
  
"...No, I can't do that."  
  
"Yes you can," Jack insisted. "I have a spare set of sheets. You can sleep on the floor."  
  
"I can't repay you for this, Jack, I don't have any money."  
  
"You don't need to repay me."  
  
"Yes I do, I'd feel obligated."  
  
Jack paused in thought. Abruptly, his face came up, and his eyes gleamed. "You can help with the farm. I need to clear out my field...gather things to sell...that sort of thing. You can repay me working on Okera."  
  
"...Jack, listen, I don't know you, and—"  
  
"And you don't have a place to stay. I'm not going to do anything...I don't know...objectionable, Cliff. And I could really use the help."  
  
"I don't know, Jack..."  
  
"Would you consider at least, if I gave you a day or two?"  
  
Cliff paused. He looked down at his feet, then up into the night sky, and then over to Jack. His eyes were pronounced with an earnest glint, and behind them Cliff found no suspicion; only a desire to help. Hesitantly, the vagabond nodded, causing Jack's face to lighten with a prominent smile.  
  
"Come by my farm when you're made up your mind, ok?"  
  
He nodded numbly again, and Jack sauntered away, hands in pockets, disappearing down the road. 


	3. Chapter 3

The following morning, when Jack opened his door, he found a timid and vulnerable Cliff staring back at him, bird companion resting once more on his dog house. Securing the left strap of his overalls, Jack displayed a quaint smile and, leaning against the frame of the door, inquired,  
  
"Made a decision?"  
  
Cliff nodded. "I decided..." He let out a tentative breath of air. "That I'll stay here."  
  
Jack's smile broadened until it consumed his whole visage. "Welcome," He chirped, moving to the side so that Cliff could enter the sparsely furnished shack. "I know it isn't the largest space, but..." He moved to his bed and pulled out a wad of blankets and other assortments of cloth that had been stashed beneath it. There was a relatively thick comforter which he laid down on the floor, followed by two other layers of blanketing, a pillow, and a final, complimenting sheet. "I think that'll be pretty comfortable."  
  
"Listen Jack, I can't thank you enough for all this—"  
  
"Save it, Cliff." He grinned. "You've got work to do."  
  
"So, uh...how many times do I hit this thing?" Cliff inquired, staring down at the stump that lay before him.  
  
"About six," Jack grunted, smashing another rock. "It should split up after about six good whacks. Then you take it over to lumber storage."  
  
"Six GOOD whacks or six...OK whacks?"  
  
"Six good whacks." Jack reiterated, bringing the hammer once more from behind his shoulder to come crashing down upon the rock.  
  
Tentatively, Cliff raised the axe he'd been given and arched it behind his shoulder. With all the force he could muster, he brought it down upon the immobile object and was pleased as a resounding crack was emitted from it. Grinning inwardly, Cliff began pulling on the axe to get in position for another chop, when he found that it was...lodged...within the stump. He gave a sideways glance to Jack to see if the farmer had noticed his predicament, but Jack was immersed in breaking up rocks.  
  
"Uhh..." Cliff murmured, yanking on the wooden end of the tool vehemently. It wouldn't budge. "Jack..." He muttered. Cliff continued tugging and pulling on the axe, eventually propping one foot against the stump in which it was secured within and proceeded in yanking upward with all his might.  
  
Then, suddenly, it ripped from the stump, sending pieces of wood flying, and smacked Cliff smack dab in the middle of the forehead.  
  
He swayed, and then fell on his back, unconscious, without a word.  
  
"Hey, look at the little birds."  
  
...A bird's nest in the tree...  
  
"They're so cute..."  
  
"I hope they grow up fast so they can fly!"  
  
...The happy girl...  
  
"...Oh! Kyaaaa!"  
  
She got too excited and fell...then...  
  
...then?  
  
"Cliff! Cliff (is that his name?) Cliff, wake up!"  
  
"Hey, Cliff! (Yeah, that's it) Cliff, you with me, man?"  
  
"Do something if you can understand me!"  
  
I've been in this situation before...he thought. With the same voice...Jack...? Is that you...?  
  
But there was someone else with Jack; a sweet coo of a voice that Cliff couldn't match to a face. It was angelic almost...  
  
He opened his eyes to see a woman outlined in a radiant light, hovering over him like a guardian seraphim. Her eyes were so...deep...as if there was so much behind them, so much substance, concealed by a gorgeous sea-blue wall. Her beautiful, fiery hair fell in fragrant strands about those luminescent eyes, the remainder resting over her shoulder in an elegant braid, and her curvaceous body was mere inches from his, causing his cheeks to grow increasingly warm with passion. He didn't even know her name, but he wanted to embrace her, caress the frown in her brow away and just...gaze into those eyes.  
  
"Cliff?" Jack inquired, bringing him back to the present.  
  
The ethereal light that surrounded her faded, giving Cliff a better view of her face. Though it was splotched with freckles and might've appeared childlike to most, it still emanated an attribute of refinement...of regality that he was immediately attracted to.  
  
"You feel ok?" She inquired sweetly.  
  
"I...who..."  
  
"This is Ann," Jack explained. "I was so frantic when you knocked yourself out that I grabbed the first person I saw to help."  
  
"I had some of the potion dealer's medicine on me, luckily." She mused, bringing herself to an erect sitting position. "Looks like you're going to be ok."  
  
Cliff peered at Jack and saw he was missing his handkerchief. Bringing his hand up gradually, the vagabond felt it had been secured about his forehead to conceal the inevitable bruise that had formed there. Jack chuckled lightly.  
  
"You look like a martial artist."  
  
Ann chortled. Her laugh wasn't feminine, but it was appealing nonetheless.  
  
"Well, thanks for helping, Ann." Jack commented.  
  
"Oh, my pleasure. By the way, nice to meet you, Jack...and though I would rather have met you in a conscious state, it was nice to meet you too, Cliff." She smiled. It was a warm smile.  
  
"Nice...to meet you..." Cliff murmured, entranced.  
  
"Well, I'd better get going. My brother is going to need my help feeding the animals, no doubt. Stop by the farm sometime, Jacky."  
  
"I'll make sure to, Ann."  
  
"I'll be waitin' for ya. Well, so long, fellas!"  
  
She stood and wandered through the field, out through the exit and back to the Green Ranch, Cliff's eyes following her departing figure with intense longing.  
  
"Maybe you're not cut out for this kind of farm work," Jack suggested, standing up and extending an arm. Cliff grasped it absently and, with difficulty, propped himself up on a pair of wobbly limbs that felt as if they'd never walked before.  
  
"Who...was that...?"  
  
"The daughter of the owner of Green Ranch. Seems like a nice girl."  
  
"She's beautiful..." Cliff murmured.  
  
"Well, someone's certainly impressed with her," Jack chuckled.  
  
"Did you see her?" Cliff inquired, still staring off to the exit of the farm as if her figure were still present there. "Her eyes...and that hair...and...that body..."  
  
"...I suppose this attraction is more lustful than anything..."  
  
"No!" Cliff insisted, turning to Jack with a fire in his eyes. "I've never felt this way before. She's so...amazing!" He paused. "What was her name again?"  
  
Jack smirked in amusement, performing his quirk of having his hands shoved within his pockets. "Ann. Her name is Ann."  
  
"Ann..." Cliff murmured. "Jack, you've got to help me win her."  
  
"Whoa...easy cowboy, you're still repaying your last debt. And you just met her. What if it turns out you two don't have compatible personalities?"  
  
"I don't care. I need to be with her."  
  
"You're taking a leap for a girl you just met." Jack murmured, his face construing skepticism.  
  
"And you took a leap for me by letting me stay in your house. I could be a murderer, you wouldn't know."  
  
"Your outlook has changed very quickly. If I remember correctly it was I who had to beg you to stay at MY farm."  
  
"I feel like I'm meant for her, Jack...I just...I have to know. Please, help me!"  
  
"...Well, all right. I'll try. But I don't know if I'll be able to do all that much. I'm not that great of a matchmaker."  
  
"Thank you, Jack. I'll work extra hard to repay you."  
  
"No, I think you need to rest for now. Tomorrow I'll work on clearing out the field while you go gather things from the mountain to sell, ok?"  
  
"Ok."  
  
Jack, who had set his hammer down in the middle of the field, began to saunter away to retrieve it when Cliff called his name.  
  
"Hmm?" The farmer responded, arching his head over his right shoulder.  
  
"I don't...well, I don't really attach to that many people and..." Cliff paused, scratching his arm nervously. "I just wanted to say thank you. Again. For...everything. Especially for this. I've...never felt like this about anyone before and I...I would do anything to feel that sensation again..." He stopped. "Do you...know what I'm saying?"  
  
"...I know, Cliff." Jack said quietly. "And you're welcome." 


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: I just wanted to say thanks very much Zomaelgustar the Wanker (I love that name) for reviewing the story. I was afraid I wasn't going to get any reviews, but, woo, here I am. So thanks again, and here's chapter four. (By the way, I de-selected the "don't accept anonymous reviews". Thanks x.x)  
  
Jack awoke at his accustomed time, sluggishly and reluctantly departing from his bed in which dreams of money and prosperity had lulled him into a comatose state of serenity. He clambered into his overalls, letting them hang limply about his waist before pulling on an over shirt. Emitting an enormous yawn, the farmer latched each strap securely in the front, and then fitted his hat, pulling the bill down firmly on the back until it hugged his skull. Finally, gathering his rucksack, Jack advanced toward the door and threw it open to face the blaringly gleeful sun and another day of work.  
  
What he saw was rain and Cliff.  
  
The farmer blinked at the peculiar sight of his new roommate digging his axe into another stump. Absently, Jack flipped open the clasp of his rucksack to find the tool Cliff was currently using missing from his assortment of utensils. Blinking curiously once more, the farmer looked over his shoulder into the house where a bundle of sheets was apparent, though there was no slumbering vagabond within the folds of cloth.  
  
Jack observed Cliff; the only clothing he owned dampened to a dull, unappealing color due to the heavy blanket of rain descending on the farm, the previously vibrant handkerchief wrapped around his forehead nearly slipping from his skull from the tremendous downpour. Jack's previous conception of the man was beginning to do a 180; Cliff, who had appeared to be a work-detesting paranoid was now blossoming into a persevering romantic.  
  
In the span of two days as well.  
  
"Cliff!" Jack called over the boisterous rain. "You shouldn't be working during a storm, you'll get sick!"  
  
"It's fine!" He returned, splitting the stump and tossing the fragments of lumber aside. "I was digging up weeds this morning and found a red nut! I have no idea why, but now I'm full of energy!"  
  
The farmer jogged over to his seemingly delusional counterpart and halted his arms just as he attempted to swing them downward on the helpless wood. "Please, Cliff, you already got hurt yesterday. Take it easy for now."  
  
Reluctantly, Cliff lowered the axe and offered it submissively to Jack. "All right."  
  
He accepted it and stuck it in his rucksack. "I'll go up with you to the mountains for today to show you what to ship, ok? I shouldn't be working either...it's really coming down."  
"Yeah..." Cliff murmured, looking up. He observed the dizzying ballet of rain droplets descending on Okera, paying no heed to ones that collided with his face; even into his eyes...he was just mesmerized by their beauty. In Moondrop, Cliff had never paid any mind to the rain, only trudged in despair and self-pity through the thickening goo of earth that the imposing water had created. But now there was a tranquility; a mysteriousness to the rain...an effervescent quality.  
  
He looked back at Jack with a smile on his face.  
  
Up in Moon Mountain, Jack pointed out various items, identified them to Cliff, and then placed them in his rucksack for the shipping bin. Eventually, after they'd collected all that the rucksack would hold, Jack and Cliff began meandering down the route they'd come from when the farmer murmured,  
  
"I don't really feel like going back to Okera yet...mind if we walk around town a little bit?"  
  
Cliff shrugged. "I don't mind. I should probably re-introduce myself to the village anyway."  
  
Taking a turn at the crossroads to the left side of the more industrious section of town, Jack and Cliff made their way through the desolate streets surrounding the potion shop, midwife's shack, the mayor's mansion...and the hauntingly familiar library that stood but a few meters away from Jack. He paused at the sight of it, having never been to that particular part of town before, causing Cliff to halt in his tracks as well.  
  
The farmer's eyes flickered.  
  
"Thank you for showing me..."  
  
"Jack, are you ok...?"  
  
...An old fairy tale book...?  
  
"I feel strange...this place is so...I don't know, it's so familiar to me..." Abruptly, he became quiet, as voices began to resound in his mind; no visual images...just...voices...  
  
"When will you come next time?"  
  
"We'll visit again next summer. Right, Jack?"  
  
"Really? Will you come again?"  
  
...The girl is about to cry...  
  
"What? For me? Is that OK? Thank you. I'll take care of it."  
  
"Come on...say goodbye to little..."  
  
...The girl was waving for a long time...  
  
...That was... 


	5. Chapter 5

Whoa, more reviews. Thanks guys! Reviews are really motivating, hehe. So, here's the next chapter.  
  
From the library emerged a young woman, adorned with a cerulean cotton dress, luxuriant raven black hair and rain-splattered glasses. She timidly leapt out from under the shelter of the shingled roof of the building, apparently fearing getting wet again (as it was obvious from the condition of her attire she'd already been out in the rain), hopping from foot to foot in the accumulation of water that had formed outside her door. Behind her there came another young woman with vibrant pink locks who stepped casually into the rain, a sunny disposition unclouded by the terrible weather. She unfurled an umbrella nonchalantly and held it above the aforementioned girl's head, who immediately stopped her hesitant dance and blushed slightly.  
  
"Jack!" Cliff shrieked, bringing the farmer against the midwife's shack, shaking him to snap him out of his bedazzled state. Jack's eyes abruptly focused, and, blinking, he looked back at Cliff. "Jesus Christ..." The vagabond murmured in relief. "You scared me there for a second."  
  
Jack gave a timid smile. "Sorry, sometimes I just sort of...blank out when I'm thinking. I did it a lot when I was a kid..." he paused. "But you were worried about me?"  
  
Cliff scowled at the farmer's pleased expression. "Don't look so damn pleased with yourself." Releasing Jack's shoulders, Cliff inquired, "So what were you thinking about?"  
  
The farmer stepped out from behind the midwife's shack timidly, vibrant hazel eyes glazed with a sheet of slight sadness and hesitant remembrance. Peering at the entrance of the library the two girls had already vacated, he murmured, "Nothing of concern."  
  
The two arrived back at the farm at around 6:00 and entered Jack's shack, what flames of work they'd concocted that morning thoroughly doused by the deluge.  
  
"Elli makes really good cakes, huh?" Jack inquired.  
  
"Yeah...it was nice of her to give them to us for free. Must've been my manly charm that persuaded her."  
  
"Of course."  
  
In a state of lethargy, Cliff removed his shirt and threw it aside near a far corner of the room, then collapsed upon his accumulation of sheets, groaning as if he'd done a fair day's work. Jack followed in after him, stretching and yawning, paying no heed to the dampness of his attire as he lay upon the bed, savoring the feeling of warm cotton forming a glove to his body.  
  
Cliff gave the farmer a sideways glance. "Do you ever take off that cap?"  
  
"The cap is sacred." Jack murmured, his voice heavy with exhaustion.  
  
The vagabond grinned, returning his azure eyes to the ceiling. Observing every imperfection; every groove and splinter, every improperly inserted nail...he felt suddenly content. Despite the humbleness of the shack, the furnishings...it was a home for him now. For as long as Jack was willing to keep him, this was his home. He'd never felt that solidity in his life before. Knowing there was something waiting for him at the end of the day. Cliff shifted his weight, lifting his knees upward so that they protruded upward. "Why is it everyone becomes lazy on rainy days?" He inquired.  
  
"Rain is soothing..." Jack muttered, hardly audible as his chin was buried in his chest. Apparently the syndrome of apathy had dealt him a vehement blow. "When soothed, people are more prone to succumb to...doing nothing."  
  
"Like you?" Cliff questioned in jest, a smirk gracing his tattered features.  
  
A hand emerged and was extended in the vagabond's direction, a middle finger elevated, also in jest.  
  
"Oh ho, so the bastard surfaces underneath the goody two shoes, eh?" Cliff chortled. Jack smiled.  
  
"What're you going to do about your lady friend?" The farmer asked absently after a period of silence.  
  
"Ann? Well..." Cliff sat up and peered down at his crossed feet. "I was thinking about...getting to know her...going to Green Ranch and just...striking up conversation, but I've never been good with that. I always shit myself down a river whenever I try to talk to women..."  
  
"You could always do the guinea pig card."  
  
"What?"  
  
Jack mimicked Cliff's movements, altering his position to that of a sitting one, pulling down the bill of his cap to fix its disheveled placement on his head. "I'm your guinea pig; I find out things about her, what she likes, her birthday, things like that and I relay them back to you. Then you can approach her with more of an idea of what she's like and, therefore, have a better chance of wooing her."  
  
"...You've done this before, haven't you?"  
  
"Well, no...not really. I've seen some guys do it for their friends. Like I said, I'm not much of a matchmaker."  
  
"Did it work for them?"  
  
"Sometimes."  
  
"Would you be willing...?" Cliff inquired.  
  
"If I wasn't willing, I wouldn't have suggested it."  
  
"...Thanks, Jack."  
  
"While you're gathering stuff tomorrow I'll head over to Green Ranch, ok?"  
  
"Yeah, ok."  
  
There was a lull in conversation. Cliff's shoulders had tightened in apprehension of something unknown to the farmer, his eyes construing skepticism and unaltered fear. Jack assumed the vagabond had never taken something so abrupt so seriously before; one who has no commitments or responsibilities...one who knows no one he can return home to, who he feels the need to please, who he wishes would enjoy his company...  
  
Jack had known Cliff was that kind of person the moment he met him. Though a modest man, the farmer credited himself loosely with having the ability of analyzing people fairly well by examining their physical attributes; the set of their pupils, the positioning of their mouth and lips...if they have dark circles or intricately deepened laugh lines about their eyes. All these traits attributed to the personality and the experiences of the man or woman inside of the external appearance. And Cliff had the look of a man who was incessantly suspicious. His lips, dried and thin, slightly inward as if his teeth were gnawing them away; the chin tight and square, uncomplimentary to the rest of his features. At first sight, Jack had taken account of Cliff's eyes...their deep cyan, penetrating with a cold suspicion, shadowed by doubt and internal conflict. The latter had been ever so evident when Cliff was battling with the notion of staying at Jack's. And when the farmer had seen him the following morning, it had dissipated, replaced with uncertainty and foreboding.  
  
The farmer, at a young age, had accumulated this extraordinary "insight" talent by people watching. Unlike Cliff, his silence and detachment wasn't due to past turmoil...just that he was generally timid when it came to social confrontations. Jack was still friendly if spoken to and humorous if the occasion was appropriate...but as a boy, he found most pleasure in sitting in a shady spot, observing people pass by. A stern man would saunter by him, with bulky, well built shoulders and a jaunt face...but there would be lengthy lines stemming from the corners of his eyes, leeching outward almost to his ears it seemed. So defined were these marks that Jack knew instantly he wasn't introverted or hot-tempered at all. Those lines showed he'd lived a life of laughter.  
  
So, while the other villagers would pass by him without a glance or peer at him oddly due to his intimidating frame...Jack would smile. And when that man caught his smile, he would return it. And his eyes would squint. And his mouth would become agape, showcasing rows of gloriously white teeth.  
  
After that, that man was no longer frightening. He was like a child, just like Jack. It was amazing to the farmer, at that age, how a smile or a nod or some other friendly gesture could change the entire disposition of a person. Likewise, he'd tested it on favorable looking people, finding that they would ignore him or even glare if they were irritable enough. And Jack would've had a theory about their reaction before he caught their attention. Normally, he was right.  
  
What intrigued Jack about the people in this town, however, was how unpredictable they were. Even though the farmer could read some of Cliff's feelings, and create ideas on what might've happened in his past...that morning when Jack woke to see the vagabond clearing his fields without being prompted to was completely stunning. And upon seeing that woman in the tavern, Karen...her demeanor and smug grin was almost favorable until she erupted on him.  
  
Each person he'd come in contact with had changed abruptly from what his hypotheses concluded. It was actually rather frustrating.  
  
"Hey Jack?"  
  
Cliff's voice broke Jack's contemplation. He responded with a simple,  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"What really happened today? When you...blanked out?"  
  
The farmer paused. "I remembered something...faintly..." He murmured. "I have so many memories of visiting this town in the summer. The whole appearance of things...the trees, the grass, the flowers. But I could vaguely remember any of the people. It was like...I don't know; it was like a cigarette burn in a photo album. The one portion of that picture you want to see is burned away, and you can't get it back. But when I saw that library...something...came to me."  
  
"What did?"  
  
"...A little girl's voice. And my mother's...but I couldn't see anything. Couldn't see the little girl or my mom."  
  
Cliff looked through the window at the storm. He felt an abrupt sense of loneliness in the pit of his stomach.  
  
"I can't remember anything about this village either..." He trailed off. "All I remember is...playing with Karen sometimes. And I remember her father yelling at us one day for getting too close to a wild animal..." He chuckled. "Why can you never recall the things that matter?"  
  
Jack shook his head, shrugging. "I just know that conversation I remembered is going to be bugging the hell out of me all night..." He peered at the clock on his bedside table. It read 8:30. "We'd better get to bed. Another day tomorrow."  
  
"Yeah..." Cliff murmured.  
  
"Good night, Cliff." Jack called, turning out the light.  
  
"Good night...Jack..." 


End file.
